Forces of Nature
by The Bonfire Storyteller
Summary: With the Order in ruins, a young Jedi Knight is sent on a journey by his deceased master for one final lesson in understanding the Force. He will venture to an abandoned planet called Earth, where he will encounter cybernetic beings that he never imagined were real. There, he will learn the fate of humans of that world, the souls of automatons, and what it means to be a Gray Jedi.


**This is a new little crossover I have cooked up, and is something I've had in mind for quite some time! For some of my readers who have seen my work from years before, this first prologue will seem familiar to you. However, I have redesigned it so that I would better incorporate the crossover of Star Wars and NieR: Automata.**

 **As a forward warning, I have gathered most of my information about the NieR series through online articles, gameplay videos, and research on the outside. If I make a mistake within the lore or interpretations of characters, please feel free to message me with corrections. I am open to constructive criticism, focusing on the word _constructive_.**

 **And as per usual, I am open for ideas and pairings within this crossover, as we all know that the universes of NieR and Star Wars are some of the biggest sandboxes in fiction, and I am open to ideas even Yoko Taro would blink in surprise at!**

 **Hope you all enjoy!**

Prologue

The Jedi Temple was in ruins. Fires burned in areas of the marble and steel building, blaster marks scorched the walls, and bodies of Jedi and Clone Trooper alike were strewn across the floors and stairs. Order 66 was in place, and there was no hope left for the survivors within. Darth Vader, former Jedi Knight Anakin Skywalker, walked about the Temple with a dark cloak draping behind him and a lightsaber in hand. Most of his handiwork was this, along with the elite 501st Legion of the Clone Army. Darth Sidious wanted the traitorous Jedi to be removed, and that is what he will get. Approaching the Jedi Archives, the source of all Jedi knowledge, he turned to a small squad of the blue-painted soldiers and nodded to them emotionlessly.

"Search this area and make sure that there will be no survivors." He stated coldly.

"Yes, sir." They replied as they departed. When they left, the newly turned Sith smiled evilly.

There would be no escape for any who dared to move about in this place.

The clone troopers entered in the Archives, looking about its bookcases and desks. Once this had been a place where Padawans, Knights and Masters alike came to learn about subjects they didn't understand, refine their knowledge of the force, and even practice their meditation. Now, it was a ruin. Bodies of all stripes littered here, all with either lightsaber strikes or blaster marks in their bodies.

"Spread out and search. Make sure there isn't anyone in there." The sergeant ordered. The clones moved with silent obedience, obeying every single command without hesitation.

From the rafters, a young man watched them. He was a Jedi Knight, a fugitive from these genocides. Bearing short brown hair, tan-colored eyes and skin supplemented by a look that had gone from gentle to hard over the years of the Clone Wars, even at the young age of twenty years old. His humble robes had been stained with soot and blasterfire, but nothing stained him as much as seeing his Order fall before him. He had no Master now, as she was killed defending Younglings from the onslaught. However, he would survive by any means necessary. The native of Corellia Barak Crowe would not pass at the hands of such a deluge of blood and blasterfire.

Once there was an opening, Barak climbed his way down, using the Force to land softly on the upper level. He looked down to see what one of the clone troopers were doing, and he saw that the sergeant was alone. He couldn't use his lightsaber, too noisy. Barak sighed openly as he realized he would have to use the Force once more. Reaching out with his hand, he waved it slightly and whispered softly, his accent sticking out.

"Come over here sergeant."

The clone raised his eyebrow as he turned to the order, but the Mind Trick worked well.

The soldier milled forward as if there was nothing wrong, and once he approached the pillar, the Jedi leapt out and snapped the clone's neck. It was quiet and quick, the body going limp in his hands. Barak let a sigh of relief come out as he dragged the body across the floor and stuffed it in a corner nearby, out of sight.

One down, four to go.

Before that though, Barak approached one of the Archives' cases. He had to take some knowledge with him, somehow. There had to be a data transmitter somewhere in here. Barak swallowed a little as he looked around, letting a sigh of relief come across his lips as he found an unused one in the hands of a dead clone.

Silently taking it while a clone stalked nearby, he briefly performed yet another Mind Trick on the hapless soldier.

"You will go to sleep right now." He ordered.

"I…will go to sleep now…" The trooper replied drowsily, and with that he approached the pillar and curled up near it, slight snoring already heard.

Barak rolled his eyes at the stupidity of the clones. They were brave, valiant and more intelligent than the CIS droids, but they were still weak-minded. He would have killed them, but it was better not to cause alarm. The Jedi Order would have disciplined him for thinking in such a mindset, but had they ever been forced to survive like this? In this case, probably Mace Windu and Obi-Wan Kenobi, those frontline generals…but he didn't suspect that any of the others did, sitting up in the Council all day.

Plugging the data transmitter into one of the cases, he began to download as much as he could, counting precious seconds as they passed. He saw things get processed like the histories from the Old Republic's beginnings, several saber forms in combat, techniques in using the Force, and so much more. The transmitter was filled to the brim, and the technological blueprints he downloaded would come in handy should he have to assemble parts devices.

Once done though, he heard the sergeant's Commlink crackle. "Sergeant, report in." the voice commanded.

"Damn it." Barak cursed as he stood up.

He was going to have to escape…but not wearing robes. He needed to shed his skin as a Jedi and emerge blended in, but how? He looked around, trying to find something of use, when a lightbulb occurred to him. What he had was lying around him. Dragging several cold bodies of the clone troopers, he shed his clothes and donned the armor of a 501st trooper. The fit was a little snug, but he still managed to pull it off. The voice continued to garble on the comlink, but Barak reported in, his natural voice sounding very like that of the clones.

"Sir, Trooper Beta-472 reporting. The sergeant was killed, but I managed to dispatch the Jedi before he could cause any more trouble. Archives secure." He responded.

"Alright, 472. We need you to regroup in the main hall for redeployment. Lord Vader is establishing us as sentries here while the tech crews come in and clean out the Archives." The officer stated.

"Roger that, moving out." Barak replied.

They were all regrouping near the main hall. That should give him a chance to escape.

Grabbing one of the blaster rifles near the bodies, he tried to make his posture that of a trooper. However, he kept the lightsaber hidden in his armor, making him grit his teeth against the pressure. The weapon was certainly attractive enough to cause attention. Even as it was a standard lightsaber modeled after Obi-Wan Kenobi's own, the Corusca Gem inside it produced a silver blade that truly was powerful. Just from looking at it, the weapon would suit his Form II, V, and VI training. Barak just prayed that he wouldn't have to use it just yet. Now armed and ready to escape, Barak walked out of the building with the data transmitter and armor, going right under the noses of the sentries and the sleeping soldier.

* * *

Slipping through a side-door out of the Archives, Barak was greeted by a thudding rain. Of course it was raining. Thankfully the HUD inside the helmet could see through the pouring water, and he began to look around for any signs of a ship. There were none, but he saw a Republic Gunship approaching with fresh troopers. It was all the way on the other side, with a rather nasty gap in between the platforms. The Knight knew he would have to jump at the right time, so he waited patiently. The door opened and the troops emptied out, moving in single-file lines towards the meeting area.

Now was the time to jump.

As the doors closed and the vehicle began to take off, Barak took a step back and leapt high into the air. He used the Force to propel himself much further than a normal jump, and as the gunship began to veer away, he landed right on the roof of it, landing with a slight clang. He gritted his teeth silently, hoping that the pilot didn't hear anything.

There was only one flaw to his plan though. He had no idea where he was going.

Hanging onto the gunship as it swept through the rain and over the city of Coruscant, he sat there and looked at the dwindling Jedi Temple. Smoke came from the halls he had once known, and he sighed openly, not bearing to watch. Once he was a Jedi who hoped to become something greater. Now he was a fugitive, a man who had nothing else except his lightsaber and his wits.

Around half an hour later, the sound of the gunship landing came into Barak's ears. He looked down to see the landing platform approaching, and in an instant, he climbed down the wing, sliding off and onto the wet base below feet-first. Thankfully the pilot was busy looking elsewhere as he landed, and didn't notice a clone trooper running off into the nearby alleyways of the landing strip. Barak quietly moved around the area, using his disguise as best he could. Whenever he would pass a clone patrol, he would just nod and salute briefly before slipping by.

To be discovered here would mean instant death, and he had no plans for dying today.

He navigated through the barracks, briefly saying hello to some off-duty troops from another battalion, though he kept as silent as he could when moving about, taking special care to avoid officers and high-ranking clones. It was a deadly game of cloak and dagger. Soon though, Barak could let out a breath of relief when he came towards the poorer areas of the city. There would be thieves and criminals who would immediately gossip about the sight of a 501st trooper, but at this point he didn't care. All he wanted was to get out of Coruscant and away from this shambling Republic.

Approaching through a rather dark alleyway, he sensed that there was a small market nearby. Perfect opportunity to get rid of his disguise and blend in with the crowd. Standing officially, he turned and walked through the streets, seeing that there was indeed a marketplace. However, the sheer contrast from the booming and clean streets above was astounding. They were primitive here, even with some aid of holograms and droids.

There were calls in Galactic Basic, Huttese, Rodainian, and so many other languages that Barak had to shut his eyes to adjust to the noise. Once he walked in, they became hushed. Several vendors looked at him as if he were Lord Vader himself, shuffling their feet nervously. Either that, or they looked upon him with quiet distaste; he knew full-well the Clone Troopers weren't beloved by all. Especially those red-striped Shock Troopers. Still, Barak would know that word would spread out that there was a Clone Trooper down here.

Gossip-mongering was a huge deal, and word would surely get to the scum that would sell their own children for a bag of credits. He was mortal, and he needed to act fast.

Eventually, he came to a vendor that sold clothes. A Gungan by the looks of it, green-skinned and covered in scars.

"Hey, why yousa hangin' around here? Clone troopa supposed ta be killin' Jedi." The creature said in a snake-like voice.

Barak secretly applauded the man's courage, evidently not caring if he insulted a trooper who could kill him on the spot without jurisdiction.

" _Im wata heoi pee Jee dayan paupe shoma. Bmaleoi bud an da jasola, bkoha biw?_ (I'm here because I need some clothes. Particularly the kind that doesn't attraction, understand?)" Barak replied in Huttese.

The Gungan grinned a little at that and spoke in the same language, rapping his fingers on the counter.

" _Ah, Jee nu. Du da kanu, Jee hatkocanh paknee ata da pehot mo meek on che kae shoma uba banag, Jeedai_ (Ah, I see. In that case, I'll take that armor off your hands for any clothing you want, Jedi)."

Barak couldn't help but grin a little more, though out of nervousness or success he didn't know. This Gungan could make a fortune off the Duraplast armor he had, and in exchange he could blend in. That, or he would be caught dead and locked up for illegal arms dealing. Either way, Barak needed a disguise.

Picking out a rough long-sleeved olive shirt, fingerless gloves, a worn brown-black trench coat made of synthetic leather, drab olive field pants, a rucksack and boots that had seen better days. Nevertheless, he had what he needed. Taking the clothes, he briefly stepped into a small enclosed area to throw off the armor and robes, then he donned the humble clothing from before, and when he emerged he looked like a traveling man with nothing but the pack on his back.

" _Cheska wa rulya bargon vehpe wata? Jee ccanta Jee koee yoieu killee cahka wa Ciduepe mee Keepuna Cowei_ (Is there a weapons dealer around here? I think I might get killed carrying a Republic Blaster Rifle)." Barak asked.

" _Rat, ritke uemmahee dopa vendors an woy wa saptkhe, Jeedai. Uba caiot pacahla da du che kaa cuee…duapa ahbeu_ (Yeah, just go down two vendors and make a right, Jedi. You can trade that in for something more…low class)." The Gungan replied.

Barak nodded and waved him off, all the while the Gungan grinned at his shiny new set of armor that he could sell for a much higher price. Before walking off though, the Jedi turned and looked at the Gungan while waving his hand softly, beginning to open his mouth.

" _Bmeheka koudanwohola cha joday dah mi (Mind tricks don't work on me). Cha donee Jeedai, Jee oto vo pieah (Don't worry Jedi, I'll keep quiet)_." The Gungan muttered without looking at him.

Barak blinked in surprise, uttering a curse under his breath before nodding softly. Odds are the Gungan wouldn't, but what choice did he have?

* * *

Following his instructions and arriving at the weapons shop. A human trader wearing body armor and an eyepatch looked up from his stand, sizing up his new customer. He looked like he was a grizzled mercenary from the Clone Wars, too old to go on fighting new campaigns but still deadly enough to shoot a gun.

"Whaddya want, boy? Need a pistol or somethin'?" he asked in a thick and gravely voice.

"I'm looking for a good blaster pistol, something I can trade for this." The Jedi replied as he lifted the blaster rifle and set it down on the countertop.

The merchant looked down at the blaster rifle and examined it closely, inspecting the weapon as if it were a museum piece about to go on display.

"Well now, how did a gutter-rat like you manage to snatch up a standard-issue DC-17 blaster rifle?" he asked.

"The same way you scavenge from a field." Barak replied, trying to look or at least sound tough in front of the merc.

The older more experienced vendor saw right through his guise, and then he shook his head with a low chuckle.

"Drop the merc act, boy. You ain't no Mando, and you'll never be one. Still, if you managed to snatch this from a plastic guard without being caught, you've got some skill." The vendor mused.

"What will this get me?" Barak asked, impatient and trying to leave as soon as possible.

"Hmm…let's see…rifle's in excellent condition, still got some blaster packs in it…stock's a little weathered…alright, that'll get ya this." The vendor stated as he set the rifle aside and brought out wares of equal value.

The items ranged from a modified SE-14C blaster pistol to several stacks of credits. The Jedi chose the pistol, as it was powerful enough for a fight but also small enough to conceal and not draw too much attention. The rifle he traded got him that and several packs, and with still enough value from his trade he picked out a bandoleer, utility belt to hold the packs and a few tools, a durasteel survival knife, and lastly a Hush-98 comlink set Now he was truly ready to go. All he needed was to find a ship to get off the planet and away from the new Empire.

"You be careful out there, scavver. Lotsa unsavory types muckin' about." The vendor told him.

"Trust me, I get the idea." Barak replied with a nod, walking out of the small secluded shop. First experience with a black-market set-up, and he didn't get jumped. The Force truly was with him for now.

* * *

Barak made his way out of the lower streets of Coruscant and headed up towards the main ports. Here there'd probably be a small ship that he could "liberate" and can leave this planet behind for good. Stalking through the crowd and keeping his blaster concealed in his clothes, he pushed through to get to the hangar bays where people loaded and unloaded their ships, particularly merchants and couriers. Barak knew he had to be careful, as there were armed guards on each one of the light freighters.

 _Trust in the Force, Barak. Trust in the Force_.

He thought to himself as he began to walk forward. He tried his best to mingle in with the crowd, looking as if he had already bought a ticket to get to a mass-passenger shuttle in the next hangar. He kept moving along until he saw that there was a small ship that he could use. Looked like a green and silver HWK-290 light freighter that has just finished loading up some form of shipment, armed with some intricate weaponry, and was waiting for its owner. It would suit his needs perfectly, though he hoped that the owner of it wasn't around anytime soon.

Stalking towards it, he slid past distracted mechanics and guards until he came right up to the ship. It was then that two engineers were stepping out, pushing a crate of what looked to be supplies, and they blinked at the sight of Barak.

"Who are you?" one of them asked.

"I…uh…I'm the owner of this ship." He replied. The two men chuckled openly at that, making the Jedi frown a little.

"Yeah, and I'm the king of Coruscant. Get off this ship, vagrant." The second one replied.

Sighing, Barak waved his hand to perform a Mind Trick. They looked like simple men, and Barak gambled on the fact that they would be stupid enough to fall for it with no one watching.

"You two are mistaking me for a vagrant when I am the owner of this ship."

"We are mistaking you for a vagrant when you are the owner of this ship." They said emotionlessly.

"You won't let me leave without giving me a tour of the ship."

"We won't let you leave without giving you a tour of the ship."

"Well? I'm waiting."

"Yes sir, absolutely! We just finished working on it. Hopefully you'll like the new bar we have established inside!" they replied cheerily as they let the Jedi in.

It was spacious and most definitely usable. This ship had rather powerful weapons on them, enough to go towards military standards. The two engineers showed Barak all the spaces and areas of the freighter, from the medical bay to the communications area and then to the cockpit. From what he saw, the owner of the ship happeend to be a trader in exotic droid parts and components. He was glad that it wasn't one of those smuggler ships that he had stolen upon, or he'd be in serious trouble. At this thought, the Jedi began to think about what would happen if he was caught in space. Barak was certainly no Anakin Skywalker, but he knew enough to handle himself in a dogfight. Still, would he be able to outrun Imperial forces in time?

"Before we go sir, we'd like to introduce to you the two new droids you ordered." One of the engineers told him, interrupting his thoughts.

The Jedi raised an eyebrow, but he played along. Rolling and walking up were a jade-colored humanoid protocol droid and a green dome headed astromech droid. He couldn't help but smile at the sight of them. Droids were a favorite of his, and he loved talking and working with them on different adventures with his former master.

"The protocol droid is A-3PO, but we like to call him Asimov, and the astromech is R3-G14. They'll be your assistants when you go out into the galaxy. But…are you sure you don't need a co-pilot?" one of them asked.

"Uh, nope. I can fly this thing by myself. We're ready to leave?" Barak asked.

"Yes sir. You can leave whenever you are ready." The engineer replied.

"Excellent. Tell them I am ready." He said with another wave of his hand.

The two engineers departed and he was standing on the platform with the two droids just assigned to him. He'd struck gold.

* * *

"It's a pleasure to meet you, sir!" Asimov said in a British-like accent. "Do you require me at the cockpit, master?"

"Yes, actually. I want you to get familiar with the systems here and plot a course as far away as possible from Coruscant."

"As you wish, master." Asimov replied as it lumbered towards the cockpit.

R3 made several beeps and squeals, making Barak laugh a little. He was glad he could understand Binary from Astromechs, or like many others he would have stood there looking like a fool.

"No, we're not leaving because I'm impatient. I just want to get away from the city life and just…travel." He said softly as he looked away, rubbing the back of his neck while the ship hummed to life.

"Are you alright, sir?" the protocol droid asked with some concern.

"Yes I am. I just need you to go to inspect the ship, and R3 I need you to disable any signals that would emit from this ship." Barak ordered.

Several beeps and clicks followed as R3 rolled away with Asimov, making the Jedi smile. At least he wouldn't be alone.

As the ship took off, he looked outside an observation port and he saw the actual owner of the ship hysterically raving with such hysterical rage that clone troopers had to restrain him. Looked like some merchant from Corellia, his own planet. Barak hated to steal from someone like this, but at this moment he wasn't a Jedi; he was a survivor. He then turned back and approached the sitting area next to the communications room, thumping onto the chair. He had escaped death at the hands of the 501st, and now he was on his way through space.

* * *

As he rested his head in his arms and set the blaster aside, Asimov came in with a cup of Corellian ale and a plate of nerf sausage. The Jedi looked up at him and nodded with a small smile, taking the food and eating it.

"Thank you." He said politely.

"It's my pleasure sir. I'm also am pleased to inform you that the hyperspace engine is working perfectly as well as the rest of the _Courier VI'_ _s_ system. We have passed customs and will be trading with our wares in the Outer Rim in no time!" The protocol droid stated proudly.

 _Courier VI_ , huh? It had a nice ring to it, especially as a freighter. The Jedi supposed that now he would assume the role of a traveling merchant, trading wares in and out of the galaxy. It wasn't the life he expected at all...but now it would be easier to survive without worrying about Imperials breathing down his neck. Barak Crowe the Parts Vendor. What a damned twist of fate.

"Excellent...and R3?" he asked after drinking from the cup.

"Oh, that little chatterbox has finally disabled the signals, and as I have said we are clear of Coruscant space. We're now on our own now." It replied with a bit of grudging towards the astromech.

"I can see you guys don't really like each other." Barak observed.

"Not quite, sir. Think of it as more…er…office rivalry." It replied.

"Ah…I see." The Jedi mused, smiling a little as he resumed enjoying his meal.

"I will leave you to it, sir. I suggest that you rest after your meal, as we will be entering Hyperspace shortly."

"Good idea." he replied to the droid as he ate the last of his sausage and gulped down the ale.

Asimov soon left the room, and then Barak walked over to the nearby bunk, and laid in it with a small sigh.

The day had caught up with him, and there was an ache in his bones. The Jedi Order had gone up in smoke, he had stolen a ship and become a fugitive, and now he truly had no idea what to do or where to go. Now he had nothing of his old Jedi self, except his lightsaber. For the first time in years...Barak felt truly lost.

"What am I going to do..." he murmured softly to himself.

* * *

 _"I see you've become a junk dealer now. Surprised you didn't become a spice merchant at this rate."_ a ghostly female voice spoke.

Barak's eyes widened as he sat up, instinctively reaching for his blaster. However, as he registered the voice...he recognized it instantly.

"Who...who said that?" he asked, his eyes darting around.

 _"Look to your right, my student."_ the voice said again.

Barak turned to his right after having sat up, and he let out a cry of surprise, jumping back. It was the bluish image of a woman, particularly that of a Jedi. She was a Miraluka, a member of a near-Human alien species that are Force-sensitive. She had dusky brown skin, very short black hair covered by a hood, but what was most distinctive was that she had a lack of eyes, and hid the fact by wearing a blindfold over where they would originally be. Her brown-white trimmed Jedi robes had been the last thing she was wearing when she succumbed to blaster fire, but now...she sat beside him, looking as if they were having another one of their philosophical talks.

"M-Master Sybella?" Barak cried out.

 _"Yes, Barak. It is I."_ she replied softly.

"But...but how?! I saw you gunned down by-"

 _"Have I taught you nothing, Barak? The Force is stronger than the flesh. The spirit within us is connected to it, and it can surpass the material realm we see before our eyes...well, your eyes in this case."_ Sybella mused.

Barak faltered a moment, remembering how much of a philosopher his late master was. He remembered her lessons of the Force, and how powerful it truly was. He also rememebred how it could be used as a tool, for good or for evil. It is neither benevolent or malevolent, just as how nature on each planet is.

"I..I see. Master...I feel lost. The Order was entirely destroyed, wiped out by a single traitor Jedi. Anakin Skywalker." Barak told her, not bothering to hide the resentment in his voice.

 _"I saw the evil within his heart, the lack of control he had. He was a magnificent warrior, even without factoring in the idea of him being the so-called Chosen One. To see him succumb to the Dark Side...I thought he would be stronger than that."_ Sybella murmured.

"He should pay for his actions! Usurping the Republic like this, it hasn't happened for...what, four thousand years? Who does that bastard think he is, Darth Malak?!" Barak barked out.

 _"Calm yourself, Barak. There will be a time to use your anger, but now is not the time. Remember...the Light and the Dark are your tools, but you must not indulge deeply in one."_ Sybella reminded.

Barak had heard that so many times whenever he felt himself overly feeling one certain emotion. Sybella had taught her Padawan in a different unorthodox manner than the standard Jedi teachings. In fact, they both could have been considered Gray Jedi, Force-users who walked the line between the light and dark sides of the force. While both were not _true_ Gray Jedi, they acted outside of the strictest standards of the Jedi Order, and Barak remembered each and every individual lesson.

 _"Remember when you were five years old, and I had met you? Your parents knew you were destined for better things, much more than being a farmer on Corellia. They wept with sadness to see their child go, but they also wept with joy at the fact that you, their son, would become a member of the Jedi Order. They had a balance in them, a mix of both light and dark inside._ _"_ she reminded him.

Barak, who still remembered his parents fondly, nodded softly. Normally, the Jedi urged not to form attachments to the materium, but Sybella urged Barak to think upon his experiences, his friends and allies, and the old and new family he had. It was a comforting thought...but the reminder of the Jedi Order falling before his very eyes brought fresh tears to the fore. He looked down as he folded his hands, unable to hold them back any further.

 _"Weep, Barak Crowe. Mourn the loss of the Order...but remember that while they have died, their spirits are forever immortalized in the Force._ _"_

Sybella placed a hand upon his shoulder, and while Barak could not feel anything, her presence comforted him. His mentor had come from beyond the grave, to help her student survive the new Galactic Empire...but she still had one more lesson for him to learn.

* * *

 _"Barak...when you are finished, I have one final trial for you to face."_ she told him.

The Jedi looked up slowly, his eyes still wet with tears. He had not sobbed as he thought he would have, which amazed even himself. How could he not have bawled out his eyes when his life was ashes? Perhaps it was the grim reality of the situation, or the fact that he felt strengthened by his master's presence. Either way, he looked up at his deceased tutor, listening intently.

 _"There is a system far from the Republic's eyes, one that has been long abandoned for many millennia. It was one a haven for humans, but now it is a sanctuary for droids. You go to that planet and resolve a conflict that has ravaged the planet. How you do it is up to you, but know that the way you preform will reveal so much more about you than you can ever understand."_

Barak blinked in confusion and surprise. She...wanted him to stop a planet-wide conflict? He was about to call her out upon the impossibility of the task, but he decided better against it. It wasn't the strangest of adventures they had, not the oddest of training techniques.

"Master...will this be like the time you asked me to teach the locals of a Felucian village how to become a group of farmer-warriors?" he asked.

 _"Perhaps...and it may also be similar to becoming the esteemed right hand of that one Wookie clan on Kashyyk, and we both know how THAT went._ _"_ she jested.

Barak let out a soft sigh, shaking his head while smiling. He indeed remembered how that little fiasco went; he was almost married off to the Chieftan's sister, and in effect was groomed by her for stopping a Trandoshan raiding party. It was both honoring and embarrassing for the then-Padawan, but thankfully Sybella intervened and had the marriage cancelled, instead the both of them becoming part of the Chieftan's "honor family". Wookies never broke their debts, and Barak wondered how his parents would have reacted to becoming a patrician in a Wookie city.

 _"But in all seriousness, go to the planet called Earth. You will face your final trial as a Jedi, and truly understand how transcendent the Force really is. It will also give you time to wait out the Empire, but do not let your guard down. The Sith are as vigilant as we are...and I do not wish to see you become a phantom as myself."_ Sybella instructed softly.

"I...I won't fail you, Master." Barak swore softly.

 _"No...don't fail yourself."_

With that, Sybella faded from view, shimmering briefly before there was nothing left beside him. Barak blinked a little as he witnessed his master leave. Was she truly there, or was it a hallucination? The Jedi then felt his comlink vibrate, and looked down in surprise. Who was contacting him? An Imperial spy? He took it and saw that data had been transmitted, and upon opening it he saw a set of coordinates. Barak had no idea where this would lead him...but Earth was his destination now.

"Asimov...are you at the cockpit?" Barak asked.

"Yes sir! I've been waiting for over an hour for you command, sir!" he heard from the hallway.

The Jedi instantly got up and bolted up to the cockpit, sitting down in the chair with narrowed eyes. He plugged the coordinates into the Nav Computer, and once theyw ere established, Barak began to set the jump for lightspeed.

"Sir...do you know what you are doing?" Asimov asked.

"Yes...I need to go to this planet. Something's telling me that I have business there, and-"

"No, sir, I meant do you know the controls. You're touching the wrong lever." Asimov pointed out.

"...ah."

"Let me show you sir." Asimov offered.

A brief relay of the _Courier VI's_ controls were offered, from the firing triggers to the thrust and acceleration, and lastly the hyperdrive controls. It was similar to a regular fighter's controls, though the layout was a bit different than he expected.

"Right...well, hold on. We're going to make the jump to hyperspace." Barak stated as he threw the switch.

The _Courier VI's_ engines began to roar loudly, and soon the pair could see the stars begin to whir by. The jump to lightspeed was always a rush, and after a brief lurch the freighter made the jump, accelerating at such a speed that daunted many larger craft. With a mission in mind and a rekindled spirit, Barak Crowe left behind the systems he knew full well. He would plunge into a world on in Wild Space, an uncharted frontier of the galaxy that barely anyone knew. What he would find, he didn't know. What he would see, he couldn't imagine. What is impact would bring, he couldn't fathom.

All he could do now was trust in the Force, and trust in his master.


End file.
